I feel like I'm the sort of person who drags others down into the abyss. The friends I've had, they were fine before nineteen eighty eight. They didn't have flaws and they didn't swear. No pills nor alcohol, nothing to taint the navy blue rivers running just below the surface of their pale iceberg skin. Now I've pricked a vein, sent the lava over the top and they're spoiling the carpets of the Delta rich while their parents are away. What is this place? Where are the hills? I don't need lights, I don't need Hollywood. I just need a valley or a mountain, somewhere to be instead of flatlined on a road to nowhere.
I thought this would be more fun. I can't even think of a decent metaphor and I can't keep my eyes ajar. Palms pressed against, I'm turning the lights out on tonight.

Labels: delta, friends, hills, sickness, xanax